The Game Writing Club
by Scott Nichols
This is an incredibly sad thing to read: an aspiring writer is forced to reconsider their passion as a career. Though perhaps what is more sad is how often it happens without any blog post to mark the occasion. Having questioned the viability of writing as a career choice more times than I can count over the past 2 years (heck, I think just yesterday was the last time I did so), I feel for him. And considering the caliber of the average “help for aspiring writers” advice being offered, I feel for him even more.
This is difficult, because I want more than anything to respond to his piece, but I fear that any attempt to do so will be seen as arrogant, condescending, mean-spirited, and just downright rude. But he raises some interesting issues that I would at the very least like to provide a second perspective to. I have no illusions that anything I say will actually be useful advice to other aspiring writers, it’s just something to get off my chest. This is my personal blog after all.
Christian Higley called games writing a “club,” and perhaps there is some truth to that. However, I think the way I would define it as a club is quite different from how he does. His club definition is one of exclusion, which it can certainly seem to be when first starting out. I wrote for GayGamer.net for 2 and a half years on a volunteer basis, sending pitches out to the bigger sites almost every day in hopes of breaking in to writing as a career. It wasn’t until the ever-wonderful Kat Bailey at GamePro took a chance on me to write about homosexuality in Mass Effect 3 that things took off. And even then, it wasn’t as if editors were suddenly responding to my emails. It wasn’t until 2 months after my first GamePro feature of constantly sending emails that their reviews editor gave me my first assignment. That was just within the same publication, it wasn’t until 2 more months after that that I landed an assignment for a feature with a new outlet, and yet another 2 months before writing my first review at another new one. I strongly believe that my ever-growing portfolio at that time helped, but it certainly wasn’t an instantanious “hey, you’re one of us now” across the whole industry. Even now that I’m fairly better established I’m still struggling with each pitch to a new outlet.
And yet, my “club” definition for games writers comes from a sense of inclusiveness. Somewhat surprisingly, that inclusiveness comes from other freelance writers, the people who should be my hated competition for each and every assignment. Instead I consider them my closest friends. They’d help steer me toward the right editors to contact at any given site, or give pointers on how to target pitches. And as I talked to them more and got to know them, the writers I once idolized became a whole lot more human.
Like Christian, I thought people who were writing freelance already had it all figured out. They were getting consistent work, so they must be successful in making a living as a writer! But that’s just not the truth. Many of them have second or third jobs aside from their writing (I recently started as second job of my own), and talk about, as Christian put it in his article, “drinking problems, crippling social anxieties, self-hatred, depression, or involuntary predilection towards general fuck-upery” on a fairly regular basis. Twitter for me, and it seems for many other freelance writers as well, is just as much a support group as it is a networking tool. When pitch #874 comes back with a series of not interesteds or no replies, it is vital to have those friends who have been there and can understand exactly what you are going through. Maybe they’ll even know an editor you hadn’t thought of who would be more interested in your topic. From the sound of it, Christian didn’t have that, or at least enough of it.
As for the particular advice that Christian says he received, that’s actually some of the best advice out there for an aspiring writer. “Don’t even try” is the barometer of advice. Writing about games is hard, inconsistent work that pays like shit, and someone thinking sanely about their career should avoid it. It’s self-selecting advice that weeds out those merely interested in it and those who will endure the numerous hardships involved to succeed. It should be noted that success does not mean the end of hardships. More important, though, there’s the business-minded advice. There is a very good reason he received mostly business advice rather than writing advice: few writers took business classes or consider themselves as a business. At least starting out. This was a mistake I made getting started, and got paid less than I probably should have for some assignments or wasted money on attending events without thinking whether it was financially viable. It is a point that recently is being driven home quite clearly as I fill out my taxes and owe more than I was expecting because I’m considered self-employed. If it’s not something you’re aware of as a writer, it’s an area of advice you should get immediately acquainted with. And if you’re starting out and passionate about writing, there’s a good chance it’s not an area you know very well yet.
But even with the importance of business advice, he also received no actual writing advice. There is, as I see it, a very good reason for that too. An aspiring writer won’t receive writing advice because the assumption is you already know how to write. That’s why you want to be a writer, right? Writing is the easy part. It’s the business of it – pitching, networking, building relationships with editors, knowing the right editors, and just maintaining yourself as a business – that most beginning writers struggle with.
There is also the fact that, for professional writing, I’ve found it’s a far more valuable skill to be a versatile writer than a good one (though admittedly to be versatile you must first be good). Each site that I write for has it’s own style guide, so even the sentence structure I use tends to change from site to site. The idea of general writing advice simply doesn’t work, since that advice won’t apply to every site. Hell, sites can’t even build a consensus on whether they’re writing about videogames or video games. The only piece of writing advice I could offer that would apply universally is to single-space after periods. Editors hate double spacing after a period.
The last point I want to say is the elephant in the room: how hard was he trying? Now, I don’t mean to question his passion or work ethic, or anything of the sort. I’m just noticing that the immediate response to that article on twitter was for several editors, some of whom I have worked with for freelance assignments, was: “who is this person? He’s never sent me a pitch email.” I admit it irks me a little when someone considers gaming writers to be an exclusive “club” without actually talking to the people who could grant membership.
Games writers most certainly can be a club, it’s just a matter of knowing what that club means. Being a “member” doesn’t mean you’ve made it. Hell, I still don’t consider myself to have “made it” yet. The club’s entry fee is simply a twitter account and contributing to the various conversations games writers have on a daily basis. There are no guarantees beyond that, but there are also no limits to who can join.
To end this on a positive note, I would like to give a special thanks to Michael Rose, Brad Gallaway, Rowan Kaiser, Kat Bailey, Jason Wilson, Matthew Reynolds, Phil Kollar, Susan Arendt, Taylor Cocke, Mitch Dyer, Francesca Reyes, Brittany Vincent, Mattie Brice, Nathan Meunier, Kevin VanOrd, and countless other writers and editors who have been the friends and support I have grown to rely on in my own writing endeavors. This is just a small fraction of the list of people I owe tremendous thanks to, so if you aren’t on it please don’t be angry with me. If we know each other and you’re a writer, you belong on this list as well.
Gamerly Musings 
Christian lost me at:
“I know I’m not a great writer. I may not even be a very good writer.”
That’s the point where I think, “Well ok, you should have listened to the people telling you not to try. Because you obviously don’t believe in yourself enough to make the sacrifice and put in the time needed to succeed.”
Props given. Thanks for the inspiration.
“The last point I want to say is the elephant in the room: how hard was he trying? Now, I don’t mean to question his passion or work ethic, or anything of the sort. I’m just noticing that the immediate response to that article on twitter was for several editors, some of whom I have worked with for freelance assignments, was: “who is this person? He’s never sent me a pitch email.” I admit it irks me a little when someone considers gaming writers to be an exclusive “club” without actually talking to the people who could grant membership.”
Interesting point, but isn’t it possible that Christian was trying hard and just didn’t rise above the din? It’s not as if these “several editors” had nothing to do but wait for Christian’s pitches. I imagine they’re quite besieged with all kind of pitches from all kinds of people. This says nothing of their day-to-day woes.
I think your implication here is that Christian wasn’t trying. Maybe he wasn’t trying as hard as he thinks he was trying.
I think it’s equally possible he was and he either wasn’t loud enough or that the editors can’t (or won’t) pay attention to every Christian that has the next best pitch.
I feel an impending paranoid at making too many judgment calls into his situation on a personal level, but thank *you* for taking some bold points here and carving out some neat takeaway insights. Writing is a harsh mistress that demands a lot, but an enjoyable pursuit as well. To get paid for it? A precious miracle to be appreciated.
Here’s some sound advice for aspiring games journalists. Give up. Seriously, don’t bother. You won’t make it. There’s a reason for all the rejections, silences, ignored emails and insincere responses from HR people that say one thing and mean another. The reason is this: you’re not good enough. It’s hard – practically impossible in this economically broken world – to get a job writing about games. And even if you manage to get a foot in the door, it’s highly unlikely that you’ll be able to make a comfortable living from it.
And besides, why put yourself through the soul-crushing rigmarole of breaking into the industry? The hours are long and the pay is horrendous. If you’re hoping to make a name for yourself – perhaps you think you’re the next Charlie Brooker – you should seek help. There’s nothing more pathetic than a wannabe writer harbouring delusions of grandeur. The puddle of filthy piss-water that accumulates at the base of public urinals – that’s how much you mean to the games industry. The shitty blog you write – the one that no one reads or cares about – isn’t your golden ticket to paid work. Guys, it’s time to man-up and face reality – your dream job is just that: a dream.
A black cloud hangs over the future of the traditional print publication. Magazine sales are continually declining. Aspiring journos have to face the unwelcome reality of a ridiculously competitive marketplace. And as each year passes, that window of opportunity becomes increasingly smaller. But what about the internet? Surely you can ply your trade online? Wrong. No one is recruiting. How do you expect to sell your work when no one is willing to pay you for it?
There was a time when passion, determination and an unbreakable I-WILL-FUCKING-MAKE-IT attitude would have been enough to see you through. After all, talent will out, right? Not necessarily. Games journalism is a highly niche industry, bordering on the incestuous. It’s very hard for new blood to gain a foothold. I guess what I’m trying to say is don’t waste time chasing pavements. Do something more constructive, like pissing into the wind.
You’re one to talk about being constructive! Some of us write for the sheer enjoyment of it, you know. There are different ways to measure success.
[…] journalism is a cyclic thing. Every few months a post like this one pops up, is usually countered by a post like this one, and then the debate about whether or not game journalism sucks begins in earnest. It does, by the […]
Reblogged this on Ordinary Swords and commented:
This is a response to a fairly strong calling out of games writing the other day on bitmob. I like it. I’m sharing here.
[…] posts with tales of success and the difficulty in finding that success. Scott Nichols gave us a nice article on the ‘club,’ and then another touching on some related issues. Brendan Keogh wrote a […]
Liked this piece quite a lot, Scott. I’m not part of the biz, but as someone who’s been reading this stuff since the early nineties—no, really—it’s stunning how much it’s changed. Before, it really did seem to be about “right place, right time”. (Generally, those were “either Chicago or SF” and “when they needed someone to write about a niche none of them could fill.) There weren’t that many print publications, and though there were solid gatekeepers at each, it meant something if you got in.
Now, it’s about an embarrassment of riches. There’s a bazillion sites out there providing more free content in a day than you could read in a month. There’s sites catering to almost every niche and interest. That doesn’t mean it’s any good, but it might well be good enough that people aren’t going to be too concerned with seeking out the higher-quality stuff.
It makes me wonder if writing’s really the right way to go these days. Maybe people should be following in John “TotalBiscuit” Bain’s footsteps and doing podcasts, or following John “Angry Game Nerd” Rolfe’s lead in doing videos. It’s a very different skill set than writing, and more expensive to do properly…but maybe going multimedia is the only way to stand out these days.
Okay, quick followup…
One thing that kind of surprised me was the complaints about “starting a Twitter” and interacting or whatever. Maybe it’s just me, but my FAVORITE part about Twitter, by far, is being able to back-and-forth with people whose writing and perspectives I enjoy and respect.
Sure, it might get heated, and maintaining too many social networking presences can just get wearying at times. But, heck, if you’re looking for a way to mingle with the “clubbers”, it’s certainly an option!
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[…] a great part of this industry’s future. And like Scott Nichols, another freelancer who made a personal blog response to Higley’s initial remarks, I’ve also surrounded myself with friends and colleagues who […]